Middle School: Seventh Grade
by Drizzleheart0419
Summary: The story of a girl's seventh grade year in Middle School, the middle grade in between the 'they-think-they-know-it-all' sixth graders and the 'hey-look-he-said-*bad word*-so-funny' eighth graders. In sixth grade, she had taken down the school's top bullies, and now everyone fears her. But can she make any friends this year? *CONTAINS LOTS OF YOUTUBERS! TEAM CRAFTED, TOBUSCUS, ETC.


**AN: I can already hear the angry mob of Finally Family, From Minecraft to Warriors, Just One of the Guys, and Jaden Eyes fans coming... Sorry guys. I have to get it out of my head somehow.**

_-Olympia's POV—_

"OLYMPIA! GET UP! BEFORE I DUMP WATER ON YOU! DO WANT THAT TO HAPPEN ON YOUR FIRST DAY OF SEVENTH GRADE?" A voice yelled from outside my door. I groaned and rolled over, and fell of my bed, waking me up fully.

"I'M UP, JANACE!" I yell at my sister. Since this was her last day here before going to college, my mom put her up to the job to wake me up, since I don't wake up when they want me to. Every alarm clock fails to get me up, so they have to threaten to dump cold water on my face, which works. Trust me; you only want that to happen to you once.

I pulled on my black jeans, and tugged a black shirt with green cat eyes on the bottom over my head and brushed the rats nest on my head until it was the smooth wavy brown hair that I find the most annoying. It was really thick and every time I turn my head, I swear knots appear.

I grabbed my black-rimmed glasses, cleaned them, and then slipped on my face. I grabbed some black and neon blue checkered socks and left my room, turning off the light and shutting the door. I picked up my new shoes, sat on a swirly computer chair, and put on my socks and shoes. Once finished, I leaned back against the chair, sleep threatening to close my eyes.

But, I blinked them open and groaned, leaning forward to make me stand up to walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.

Exiting the bathroom, I then went to the kitchen, grabbing my lunch box and a breakfast bar. I ate the snack while putting on my backpack. The only strap began to dig into my neck, so I shifted it around as I waited for my mom and brother to come out of their rooms and take us to the top of the lane to catch the bus.

I ended up leaning against the door, staring at the black converse with neon blue laces on my feet until it was time to go. My mom hurried out of her room, and my brother ran down the steps from the loft where his bedroom is.

"We gotta go, we gotta go!" My mom said over and over again as we left the house, jogging to the car. My mother sat in the driver's seat and drove up the lane, saying that we'd better not be late on the first day of school.

Luckily, we made it up before the bus came hurtling down the main road. My brother and I hopped out of the car, bid my mother a good day and a goodbye, and jogged up to the bus's door. We said hello to the bus driver, then sat down in our respectful grade section.

I sat in seventh while Jackson sat in eighth grade, in the back. I took a glance at the other seventh grader on the bus, Andrew Watts. He was staring out the window, bored.

It took around thirty minutes to pick up everyone and drive to the school. We waited for around five minutes before the school's doors opened and we were let in. I went straight to my homeroom, 102, and my homeroom teacher greeted us. I smiled slightly at her, and went to my assigned desk, where my homework book with my name on it was.

Sighing, I leaned back in my desk, watching the other students file in. Some I recognized from last year in sixth grade, but others, I didn't. Looking at the other desk next to me, I read the name of the homework book.

I could feel the color drain from my face and something flitters in my chest. I took a deep breath to shove down the feeling, turning away from the book-

To see my new desk-neighbor walk in the door. I silently gulped; watching him smile at me, while looking at the homework book on the desk next to me, then sit down. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and then looked away, scared.

"Are you okay?" A voice sounded in my ear, and I turned slowly, looking at him. He had soft caramel-brown eyes, brown hair that was spiked perfectly, an ear-piercing, and a sweet, small smile.

"Uh... Um, yeah. Perfectly fine," I stuttered, sitting straight up. "Just, y'know, first day jitters…" He seemed pleased with my answer because he leaned back in his seat, fiddling with his backpack. He glanced at me again and smiled.

"Yeah, I have that feeling, too," he said. A look in his eyes made him hit his forehead with his palm. "Oh, I almost forgot! My name's Mitch Hughes and you are?" Mitch looked at me, his eyes lighting up as he looked at my face, and I couldn't help but blush a little.

"I'm Olympia George," I said, trying to push back my feelings for a possible friend. Just a friend. "Nice to meet you."

Right then, our homeroom teacher came in, smiling. Her hands were on her hips, and she was staring at us.

"Welcome to seventh grade!" She announced. "I'm Mrs. Rimel, and unfortunately, I won't be teaching any of your classes, because I'm an eighth grade teacher. Now let's begin with the rules and regulations…"

I listened to Mrs. Rimel ramble on until she was finished.

"Well, I think I got everything covered… So, let me take attendance and give you your schedules." She hurried to her desk and grabbed a stack of papers, returning to her position in front of the room, blocking the whiteboard.

Mrs. Rimel passed out the schedules and other papers about something for behavior and the health slips for the nurse. She mentioned something about papers in the back of the homework book, to tear out and return back to her before Friday.

Mitch and I were in the second row from the wall, in the row closest to Mrs. Rimel's desk, meaning we were one of the last people to get papers. When I got my schedule, I looked at my classes and rooms they were in. I read the schedule out loud quietly to myself.

"First period, Pre-Algebra. Second period, Chorus. Third and Fourth, Literature and Language Arts. Fifth period, Social Studies. Lunch. Sixth period, Art. Seventh, Science. Eighth, Family consumer sciences."

"Hey, you have the same schedule as me!" Mitch laughed, showing his schedule to me. He was right; all of his classes were the same as mine. I dropped my paper on my desk and grabbed his out of his hands, checking his name on the top of the paper. Yep, it says Mitchell Hughes.

"Huh, strange…" I mutter, leaning back in my seat again, forcing down the blush that I knew was threating to show on my cheeks. I pushed the paper back to him and tucked a strand of my long bangs behind my right ear.

"That's so cool! I wonder if Jerome, Adam, Ty, Jason, Ian, or any of my other friends are in our classes as well!" Mitch said, and I could hear the smile in his voice as I waited for the loud speaker to turn on so the principal can tell us to go to our first class.

"…And have a good first day, everyone as we move into first period," the principal concluded, and Mitch and I stood up together, walking out of the classroom and to 215, where our Pre-Algebra class was being held.

We ran up the stairs, used to the pushing of the other kids as we skillfully turn and weave through the crowds. We both made it to our class, and sat down in random seats. I tried my best to stay away from Mitch, but he kept on sitting next to me.

I gave up and sat at the boy's table. The guys who were already sitting there were looking at me in shock, but I glared at them, and they quickly backed off. As Mitch sat next to me, they gaped at him, the surprise evident on their faces.

"Why are they looking at me like that?" Mitch laughed in my ear, and I rolled my eyes.

"It's because that you're not scared of me," I muttered into my folder, sketching a shark on my yellow folder. I glance up at the picture hanging above the table, trying to copy it from the real picture to the one I'm drawing.

"Why would I be scared of you? You seem cool," he said, and I could feel the blush appear on my cheeks, but I wiped them away and sat up.

"Well, thanks," I chuckled, glaring at the boys. All of them got up and moved to the table farthest away from the one we were sitting at, diagonal from us. "That's better," I sighed, sitting back, and Mitch laughed.

"What'd you do to scare them?" He asked, and I sighed, thinking about that moment.

"You know Christian?" I asked, looking at Mitch's face. After a moment, he nodded.

"Kurtz? Yeah, I do."

"Well, I kicked his big fat butt last year." I shrugged, watching the door as other kids filed in. "And Donny. Hate that kid."

"What? How?!" He leaned forward, and I moved back, giving him a strange stare.

"Words, Mitch. Those two are some of the DUMBEST people I've ever seen, well, other than Deron. That kid doesn't know how to spell 'apples'," I laughed. I tapped the table with my fingers as I watched one of the kids I used to talk to last year. He spotted me and sat with us.

"Olympia! What you doing sitting here with Mitch _alone_?" He smirked, and I rolled my eyes, laughing. Classic Toby. Out of the corner my eye, I swear I saw some pink on Mitch's cheeks.

"Talking about how I scared Christian and Donny last year," I chuckled, and Toby laughed, loud enough to startle the already scared boys at their new table. "So, Toby, what does your schedule look like?"

He muttered something, then pulled out his schedule and handed it to me. I skimmed over it, then nodded.

"Chorus and FCS as well." I pushed the paper back to him as I saw Mitch wave three guys over.

They walked over; smiles plastered over their faces, and sat down in a line beside Mitch. Toby was sitting to my left, and Mitch was to my right.

"Olympia, this is Adam Dahlberg, Jerome Aceti, and Ty Logan," Mitch pointed to each friend, and I nodded to them.

"Hi, I guess," I said, and they waved back.

"Hey, you're the one who pounded Donny! Nice!" Adam laughed, and I smiled.

"Yeah, the kid's too tall to think," I snickered, and then two teachers came in.

The blonde one smiled at our table, and Toby's mouth fell open.

"Hothothothothothothothothot…" He stuttered, and I slapped his arm, making him jump, and then he stopped staring at the pretty teacher.

"Alright, everyone! Welcome to Pre-Algerbra…" the first teacher, a tall, brown haired lady, started.

I can tell this is going to be a slow year.


End file.
